That night, sleep refused to come.I kept turning on the bed, the ceiling fan's slow creak sounding louder with every rotation.Her soft breathing beside me used to be comforting once — now it just made me want to scream.
I turned to my side and looked at her face in the faint moonlight. Peaceful. Innocent.Or maybe she was just pretending. Maybe that's what she was good at — pretending to love, pretending to care, pretending to be mine.
My chest tightened as I remembered that damn message."Can't stop thinking about last night."It sat there in my mind, playing on loop. I'd read it over and over till my throat went dry.She had deleted it later, probably thinking I'd never see it. But she forgot one thing — deleted messages don't vanish from memory once seen.
I stared at the phone on the nightstand.For a long time, I fought the urge to check it again. But I gave in.It was past midnight, but my hands moved on their own. I unlocked her phone — I knew the password. Of course I did.
The chat history with Arjun was mostly gone. She'd been careful.But not careful enough.One unsent photo thumbnail was still cached — a corner of a bedsheet I didn't recognize. White with gold trim. We didn't own anything like that.
"Fuck…" I whispered. My voice was a mix of disgust and disbelief.
I looked at her again.She shifted slightly in sleep, murmured something. Maybe his name. Maybe mine. I didn't want to know.
My hands trembled, but it wasn't anger yet — not fully. It was that strange emptiness before anger, the kind that makes your heart go quiet while your mind screams.
For a moment, I thought about waking her up, confronting her right there. But then I saw myself — standing in court, her crying fake tears, telling the judge I was unstable.And maybe I was.I chuckled under my breath, a bitter, humorless sound."Haha… unstable, huh? Maybe you made me this way."
I put her phone back quietly, turned my back to her, and stared at the dark wall.
That's when a thought came to me — cold, clean, precise.If she could lie this perfectly, then I had to learn to play her game better.No shouting, no scenes, no broken dishes.Just silence, patience, and a smile that hides a storm.
Revenge wasn't about hurting someone fast. It was about watching them crumble slowly, without realizing when it started.
I closed my eyes. For the first time in weeks, I slept — not peacefully, but with purpose.
Tomorrow, I decided, the game would begin.